


Repression

by KristleTribble



Series: Oneirus - His Dreams [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Different Take On Metaverse, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Phantom Thieves - Freeform, Prophecy, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, Will Eventually Include All Phantom Thieves, Will Have Some Sort Of Fluff Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristleTribble/pseuds/KristleTribble
Summary: UPDATE: This work is currently on hiatus.Repression of memories often leads our minds to ignore the messages of the past.Yusuke Kitagawa spends his normal art study time in a local dive bar, dedicated to capturing the atmosphere...or so he thinks. A strange group of outsiders notice him, babbling about "prophecy" and a "team of nine".Who are these mysterious exiles? What do they want with the introverted artist? Strangely, why does Yusuke remember the smell of his lover's blood if he believes he's never fallen in love before? Every time he thinks a question gets answered, too many doors open to show him contradictory directions to his memories.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a strange sensation crawling down the back of his throat. The kind of convulsing feeling that reminded him of a hangover, throbs and ebbs jabbing into his temporal lobe.

Overstimulation? Perhaps.

Painful and cryptic memories bubbled distantly to the surface -- snowfall, bright light, cold wind on bare skin....

Blood. Sickly staining the ice like a flavored summer treat, seeping to the frosted bottom in viscous dissociation. Sickly smelling of burning passion and warm iron.

He dizzyingly looked at his figure in self-evaluation. Emaciated, but no one knew. Frail, but defiantly tossed in the wind. He was so disgusted by his appearance.

When did it all happen like this?

Oh, he knew. But he didn't remember. There was the difference, see.

There were just missing details, and likely a missing context as well to accompany them... Like a couple that flees indoors when caught in a harrowing downpour of rain, they elude all his senses.

Who was the unconscious man beside him, breathing gentle wind across his cheek?

\---------

There was the resonant chinking of ice against cold glass. Orange reflections off the sleek wood table tops gave the dim dive bar a mild and laid back sense. The usual suspects here were all worn up labormen, torn after a stretched day of ergonomic torture.

Old fairy lights strewed themselves across the subtle sags in the cement ceiling, the walls an uninteresting ochre hue. The occasional creeping death of winter wrapped icy hands around every denizen's ankle, but only if a fool left the door open too long as he walked in.

The artist took his normal post in the very back corner by said door. It was the prime spot of perspective, but it sacrificed much. He was trading warmth for a true portrayal of the desparation and struggle of bourgeois life....

Bare white knuckles rapped absent-mindedly on the smooth tabletop. Cold shivers rippled through his arms. After minutes of scribbles, the inspired artist quietly tucked several indigo hair strands away behind his ear -- it was growing long, but he maintained a frugal life.

Besides, what good was a haircut for this baneful season?

His ears perked forward with the creaking of the doorstep outside, and then goosebumps moulded upon his freezing skin in the sudden blast of wintry cold.

_A newcomer. Doesn't quite understand the principle of quickly shutting the door behind him._

The artist paused to look at the arrival. About his age. Dressed in a heavy and dark trenchcoat and boots that pleasantly matched the colour scheme of his unruly and freebound hair... Glasses that cheekily complimented his facial structure.

Clearly one for appearances. But the male that entered with him was not the same way.

No, the coolness from one became the joviality of the other. It seemed the companion beside the trenchcoat-wearer was of the party stock. A real athlete, from the looks of his coat-concealed muscles. Forewent the logicality of boots and settled for the worn tennis shoes. And his hair was thoroughly dyed yellow.

The artist began to chew on a fingernail thoughtfully. Who were these people?

They had an aura of exile clouding them; they were too unique to come to a dumped down bar like this one out of simple addiction or hopelessness. Could it be that they were of the yakuza?

Another outsider walked in, unusually a woman this time. She was dressed in a red fur coat, rocking some idiosyncratic sense of fashion. Her matching sequinned purse held.... A live cat?

_How strange. This is all very curious...._

There was an unsettling feeling emerging from the pits of his stomach that screamed of a level of longing, of immeasurable déjà vu.....

Without thinking, the chilled artist stood and squirreled his sketchbook away in a satchel. He wanted to leave. The air in the room was suddenly becoming ominous, and he didn't like the skin-prickling feeling that crept in his hair. He drew attention to himself by the sudden movement.

The woman saw him first and gasped, rushing to grab the blond jock's arm. A hushed whisper ghosted from her rosy lips.

"Look!"

Now all three had noticed the artist. Even the feline purse companion could not abate from sizing him up. Scrutiny poured into the air, it seemed.

The bespectacled male revealed his suave and hopeful voice. "That's him. I can feel the aura of Goemon alright."

_Goemon? Aura? What -_

"Think we should do something about him? He's supposed to be one of the nine, but...." The athlete scowled and scratched his collarbone crudely.

"...but what? That's him, that's our Fox!" The woman's lovely ponytails swayed with her enthusiastic kinetics. "This is our chance to really put the team together, like the dream prophecy said!!"

The artist felt as if he were being swamped in unintelligible chaos....who did these people think he was!? He was simply an unemployed yet comfortable artist, looking for work!

But he nevertheless listened quietly, amidst his own flabbergasted surprise.

When the trenchcoated male approached him, he cautiously edged towards the door in intimidation. "What do you want from me?"

He stopped. "Your name and your favourite animal."

"What? Er... I am Yusuke Kitagawa...but I don't see the point of -"

The jock gave a quick growl. "He asked for your favourite animal, so answer him!!"

Yusuke swallowed a dehydrated gulp. Anxiety began to set in. "....Lobsters. But I don't -"

Before he knew what was happening, he spontaneously lost consciousness mid-sentence.


	2. Chapter 2

_Remember. That is his voice. He calls to thee and beckons to thee._

_Will you ignore him now, even as the light of his hope shines upon your shadow of despair?_

_...?_

_...That is right. Thou hath been in despair. Hast thou not noticed the numbness in thy core?_

_It ere has been long since we spoke, dear friend. Thou may have forgotten thy summons and purpose, but thy strength has only been kept, nothing more and nothing less._

_The time has come to forget and repress no more thine memories. Awaken._

_Awaken the feeling within thou, of dread and dancing passion, however subtle or trivial it might seem._

_Awaken the rebellion within thou, of refusal and burning grudge, however boorish or disobedient it might seem._

_Become that questioning Arcanum, the Emperor, that shatters his expectations... of society..._

_..._

_\---------_

He first saw the red-coated woman, still donning her cloud-like ponytails. The turquoise gems of her eyes stared sullenly at her skirted lap.

Her picturesque beauty reminded Yusuke of a myriad feminine art subjects, but no comparison could quite exactly match the unique emotion of her face in that exact moment -- the transition from contemplation to unheld bounding hope.

"Oh thank god....you're still alive...!" There were sudden arms around the thin artist's neck. Yusuke bit his tongue in surprise.

He gently pried the lady away from her enthusiastic hug, frowning. "I don't even know who you are, why are you hugging me?"

"Well, you do know me, actually!" She puffed her soft cheeks out in frustration. "I'm Ann? Code name Panther?"

"Panther? You are nothing like a -"

"Yusuke! Please just stop playing games! You really do know us, I swear!"

The artist looked down at his recumbent position. His back was sore from presumably hours of laying on some variety of makeshift futon. A coarse sheet of cotton fabric covered his absolutely frigid feet and legs. He tried to gingerly sit up.

"Yeah, we're sorry about the impromptu layout...." Ann played with her necklace, which Yusuke noticed was of a matching turquoise to her eyes. "We were in a hurry to get you out, so we went to one of our less-used safe rooms... And Joker... Akira, that is... Really wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

"...Akira...which one is he?" Yusuke took in his surroundings cautiously. The small space they presided in was no more than 15 feet in length and width; unassuming bland concrete comprised the walls. There was a severe need for color and more delectable furniture to the eyes -- rickety chairs and stools and this abominable recline did not count as part of those categories. Above his head, a steel ceiling lamp scattered the sole illumination of the room.

"You really don't remember us, do you...? Ann sighed and buried her hands in her face.

The artist tensed as he saw the yellow hair of the jock appear in the doorway. His brown eyes widened in happiness. "Ah, sweet!" His well-defined face turned to an unseen figure behind him. "Your bf's up, bro!"

_B....f? What does that stand for?  Best friend perhaps? But that surely doesn't make sense...._

"Ryuji, you dumbass, quiet!" Ann hissed suddenly. She snapped out of her sulkiness and stood up. "Do you want the shades to hear us!?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist! I'm god-level certain the sound from these rooms can't be detected in the dreamverse!" Ryuji rolled his shoulders confidently.

"I wouldn't be so confident about that."

The curly-haired male from before entered the room, clapping a hand soundly on Ryuji's shoulders. "We don't know enough about this dimension yet to say that." He saw Yusuke's disoriented expression and immediately froze.

"Akira, what's wrong with Yusuke? He doesn't remember us, I thought you said Morgana's treatment would work?" Ann clasped her hands together in a pleading stance. "Why didn't it work for him like it did for all of us!?"

Yusuke could not help but feel a tender bubble of sympathy effervesce from his heart, along with contemplative wonder at who this other "Morgana" person was. 

If it would make these people happy, he would tell them he remembered whoever he was to them...

...

But he refused to lie, and that mantra he possessed faithfully, in the fashion of a dedicated wife to her husband. A lie he could not bring himself to tell.

"I sincerely am lost." It was all he could think to say, though he knew it wouldn't be enough to ameliorate the situation.

Akira, if that was his name, looked thunderstruck. Ryuji slowly guided him over to the makeshift futon, grabbing a chair and a stool to set beside Yusuke.

They sat aside Ann. Akira leaned forward and placed a warm hand on Yusuke's arm. "You don't remember any of this? Our relationship?" He looked on the verge of tears.

"Relationship? I don't follow..."

 "Yusuke..." Ryuji put a comforting arm around Akira's shoulder. The silence was pregnant with crushed expectations and loss.

Yusuke became faintly aware of everyone's breathing in the now claustrophobic atmosphere. The kept sobs of Akira, the disturbed huffs of Ryuji, the thin nasal intake of Ann, and his own subtle yet distinct wheezing.

_Whoever these people are, they are people like me. I must approach their position as such. I must get a greater understanding of what they do, what this "dreamverse"  is. Most importantly, I must discover what Akira meant by relationship..._

"...May I look at your face, Akira?" He surprised himself with the forward request. It seemed harsh and dominant in his own ears, going against his usually passive politeness. Maybe it was a result of his chaotic situation. "Perhaps I might recall something."

Akira lifted his tear-drowned face furtively, avoiding eye contact with the artist.

Yusuke tilted his head to look at Akira's earthen irises, his brow, any feature that might be able to evoke some sort of memory to well up in him. He guessed that the relationship was something sincere and very connected -- more than a superficial platonic friendship. Something in flesh and distraught with dependence.

The shorter male kept a locked stare away from his observer. Ryuji exhaled a sigh with powerful force, creating a strained whine. "What the hell is this gonna accomplish?"

Ann quickly rebuked him, though with noticeable fatigue. "Can it." As if she had no emotional strength left to set Ryuji's ego on fire.

A singular finger crept up to sensitively touch Akira's tear-stained jaw. Akira oddly melted into the touch. Yusuke examined the shape of the dark-haired male's chin, which echoed something out of an Adonis study high school had required of him.

The assignment had required Yusuke to sketch his ideal vision of Adonis, in an exploration away from classical Greek anatomy. He was to capture the quintessence of physical attraction and pleasant beauty....

Yes. Retrospectively, Akira reminded the artist of his vision of Adonis, the more he studied. Trickling visions of sketches passed his mind -- comparing, contrasting.

Yes. The skull shape was exactly like his. Eerie.

Akira wiped his eyes sullenly. "Do you recall anything yet?" He looked up hopefully.

And then, there it was, the previously cryptic nagging thought of  _something about his lips_.

Now it became crystal clear, like the waters of a cold Arctic brook that babbled away on a summer morning...

That smile.

_A smile that could steal... your..._

_Heart?_

"Your smile...." Yusuke's eyes widened in nostalgia.

Ann leaned forward in anticipation, listening for the indigo-haired boy to reveal his big joke, that it was all a sham -- he truly remembered them and was just doing this out of a spontaneous behavior study for art... It was all a plan, maybe Akira was in on it too! Maybe the two had set this all up somehow before Ryuji and her got their memories back, maybe --

"Your smile is beautiful."

Loud groans from everyone else.

"Are you kidding, man?!" I told y'all this was a dope waste of time!" Ryuji kicked the floor in aggravation. "Imma go find the smartass cat, he's prolly stalking around here somewhere...."

"Skull, you...." Ann started. But Ryuji blew her off with a wave of the hand as he got up and left.

She followed him, patting Akira's arm as she went.

When the relative silence settled again (Ann and Ryuji were now bickering heavily in the other room, which could afford no level of serenity), Akira grasped Yusuke's outstretched hand in hesitant need. His eyes searched the stormy grey of the artist's for something, a light of recognition. They sat posed in that manner, for quite a long instance -- observing subtle things, like breathing, mannerisms, body language.

Yusuke really tried as hard as he could. He felt a headache coming on from all this forced brain wracking, going nowhere and yet everywhere in useless concentric patterns of gigantic amnesiac loopholes. As he did so, he began to lose details of his life experience....

_Was the bar a mental construct? Am I really not an artist? But I was so set on the conflict of the bourgeois and -- no, was the color of the walls actually green?  Who was the bartender?! Who were the actual people I drew!? I cannot recall them...._

_Did I really become so facetious? But facetious to what? What was I before? Who? How?_

_I am Yusuke Kitagawa, this much is certain, I can intuitively say. But I am who I think I am, or aren't I...?_

_Aren't I? I don't know...!_

_\-------_

"You idiot! He's trying to remember Akira! You know it crushes him that he can't do that!" Ann slapped the concrete of the wall. "You KNOW it hurts Akira so much that he basically LOST Yusuke! They were fucking lovers, okay?! They felt right in each other's presence! Why the HELL would you be impatient knowing THAT!"

Ryuji's teeth ground against each other, fighting at the enamel. "Know? I don't effin' know! Ann, you don't understand, I think we're being duped!"

"Duped?! What in the crying shit of shame makes you think Yusuke's a spy?" Ann's hostile voice was beginning to unnerve the jock's sense of confidence.

"..."

"What?!?" Ann gripped his sleeves and shook him. "I said WHAT, DAMMIT!?"

"...I don't know..." Ryuji's stone cold stare targeted a burning hole in the floor.

"Yeah you do. Say it."

"I don't have an effin' clue, okay?! It's a gut feeling, from Kamoshida's plane."

"Kamoshida, that fucking bastard... Did his paranoia catch you too, Ryuji?" Ann fought the sobs rumbling through her vocal chords. "Don't...just..."

"Ann..." Ryuji solemnly placed his arms around her frame.

"What the hell are you doing, you idiot? Do you really think he's a spy or not? Spit... it...."

"I heard that crying girls like it when guys hug them for comfort."

"...Dumbass..."

Ryuji felt her tears seep through his jacket and simply sighed.

\--------

"You want to know what's going on, what this dreamverse is, who you were to us...."

The past tense of Akira's last statement didn't go unnoticed to Yusuke. It was as if he were condemning Yusuke's ability to remember him for good.... and maybe he would never remember himself as he was. Maybe Akira's hint was that he gave up.

It didn't feel right in any way, not one angle gave the correct view he should approach to rectify all this crushing uncertainty. So he supposed he would take the hedge.

Yusuke cleared his throat dryly, recognizing and pushing away the subtle rumbling of his stomach in hunger. "Tell me what I need to know. Please explain everything, from when you found me to before."


	3. Chapter 3

"I led the ordinary life of any teenager.

I paid attention to my studies. I gave effort to loving my parents like any kid should. My life was well, I thought. Like a dream come true.

Literally. It was a dream, I think. That's how I see it now, thinking more about it as I'm telling you, Yusuke.

I -- I only remember the ideal things. So it must have been a dream....

Any way it shows, nothing can change what happened on the eve of my sixteenth birthday.

And this is what I recall, oddly specific compared to the rest. Maybe he wanted me to remember him....

He....his name was the Warden Igor. A tall gremlin of a man, maybe a head or more above me in height. Long crooked nose. Eyes that had searing black beads for pupils....

I was terrified. I was just getting ready for bed and he popped out of the wall in my closet.

I thought him to be a ghost, with my knees shaking. He addressed me in a deep rumble of a voice, without moving his cracking lips.

\-----

I am Igor, Prison Master and Warden of the sleeping souls of humanity. In less than twelve hours, you will awake to the reality you have been blinded to. The mirage you live now is but a reflection in the mind of a god.

A reflection? But how can that be? What god?

The answers you desire lie in the unstable space between consciousness and this dreamverse, a metaphysical world of the dream-state of human beings. You are trapped in the bubble of your mind's own securities. These securities create the barrier that separates you from true fact and other possible dimensions.

How do I know I'm not conscious?! This is all so confusing.....!

To elaborate, that dimension between the human conscious and dreams is a state of chaos and external influence -- the dimension of reactions to outward stimuli, like danger and attraction. It is void of what the dreamverse understands as friendship and love, societal constructs.

...Why are you telling me all of this....?

Indeed, why.... I relate to you these details because you will become the Origin Phantom.

Phantom? What?

Yes, specifically of the Fool Arcanum, the trickster of fate. You are to brave the chaos void that bridges between true consciousness and the false dream-state you idealize yourself into. The god who encases the will of humanity in dreams resides at the point of balance between those planes of existence.

...I can't do this.... you want me to release the dreams of more than a billion people...... I -- I'm not the Phantom....

You must believe that you are. You must accept that I have selected you. Murmurs of your persona whisper to you now, as I speak, don't they? Your other self is the reason for your candidacy as the Origin Phantom, the Fool. He, that kindred spirit you know you've heard before.

He whispers the name, but you will not listen.

I -- I don't know what you're talking about!

\-------

...But....

I actually did know what Igor was talking about. I knew fully well he meant my inner soul.

Within all of us, there resides shadows of our deepest shunned desires. For me, my desire was the inability to convince myself that everything was really so hunky-dory and pastel peaches....

Everything was so perfect that it disgusted me secretly. Everything was so bland.

When I started to realize this, as a teenager, it created little knots of discord in my heart. The tangles blocked the perfect light of my surroundings, creating a shadow that became what I assumed Igor was calling my persona.

I learned the name of my persona.... Arsene. He was a fickle specter that pointed out the sickening perfection of my environment.

I learned to agree with what Igor was saying, because in that moment, there was no way to avoid it all.

\------

Yes you do. You do know. Before twelve hours, your fate will begin to turn over a new leaf.

I will gift you with a prophecy.

You must become nine. The Arcana you require are of your choice, so be wise. Each has strength and weakness, just as you so have.

When you transition, you will begin to locate your eight companions. You will be disoriented and weak by yourself, so make haste of your endeavors.

How will I know them when I see them....?

You will know.

\-------------------

When I awoke, I was no longer in the warmth of my bed and safety.

I was lying in a cold pile of my own nausea and sick. I had apparently retched, without choking. My vision was red at the edges, consuming my train of thought.

My heart raced so fast, as if it would burst into flame and just die right there.

I knew something had gone wrong, something Igor maybe didn't anticipate or tell me. My mind was going through such turbulence, such agonizing pain.... constant visions of people I never previously knew suddenly came across....

Needless to say, I was scared shitless. I expected to die from the horrifying experience of it all. My best friends in high school were fakes, my parents didn't exist, the perfect girlfriend I had was just my imagination.....

Nothing I knew applied anymore....but the new things that suddenly came to my memory were what gave me my sense of purpose in that dire moment.

I could put an actual name to the visions I saw.

Ryuji Sakamoto. Morgana. Ann Takamaki. Yusuke Kitagawa. Futaba Sakura. Makoto Niijima. Haru Okumura. Goro Akechi. And I saw myself among them, Akira Kurusu.

I knew those nine to be the team Igor wanted me to form. But I didn't -- I still don't understand why it was those eight souls I had to find.

My vision gradually became less agitated. My heart slowly eased into a bearable tempo. I calmed myself by running through my instructions from Igor.

I recognized that I had left behind my world, or what Igor called the dreamverse. The immediate of my surroundings was uncomfortable, hard rock, and no living thing in sight. The sky was non-existent, void of blue.

Everything was so weird. Including the fact that I woke up naked in my own vomit. I mean, I eventually got clothes, but....

It must have been the chaos void or whatever, and I was reacting to the unfamiliarity of my orientations. Must have been.

But it gets even stranger, Yusuke. Because I didn't just remember names... I remembered things that happened. With those people who had those names. But it was so strange.

...

I -- I....

I'm sorry... I -- I can't go...on... this all hurts me....

...

...you want me to keep trying?

...Okay...

...

Why... did fate do this to me...?

Why did I have to become...this.... Ever since I woke up then, I've felt so incomplete and empty. All my memories are so shallow, like the last drops of water until you get dehydrated. I'm slowly losing my appreciation for everything because I'm forgetting what everything actually is.

...

When Ann, Ryuji, Morgana and I were looking for you and we found you at the dreamverse bar, I asked you the question about the animal because I had a specific memory...of you and I going to a fossil museum, looking at sea life displays, and you remarked about how each creature was not as beautiful as a contemporary lobster...

I remember laughing at that, and it pained me that we had to immediately knock you out for transportation back to the chaos void.

When we got back to this safe room, while you were asleep, I was talking to Ann and Ryuji about you. Who you were.

And... I surprised myself... because the first words to stumble out of my mouth were that you were my boyfriend.

They thought I was joking. But I assured them it was true. The memories I have of you, they're filled with love and things I feel like were life.

I had to sit by myself for a while, just going through memories of you.

Yusuke..... there were so many times I wanted to hug you while you were asleep, but Morgana told me to stay away so we could properly get your memories back. Part of a ritual he knows as the Magician Arcanum, I think.

The next thing I thought of was if you would remember me too, like Ryuji and Ann and Morgana did....

...but... I -- I guess there's always... exceptions...

I missed you. I still do. I miss the artwork I've seen you paint, I miss your cute smile when I surprised you with a kiss, I miss the attention you gave to me when we were messing around with...

.....with.....

...I -- don't know. Maybe I'm exaggerating all this....

You must think I'm being false about all these assertions...

You have every reason to call me a melodramatic idiot, Yusuke...

I feel so insecure without you.

I feel in half.

What else can I say?

I feel so strongly about what we were that I sometimes forget the jarring thought in the back of my mind -- my body knows it's never done any of these things, yet my mind says it all feels so exactly like it should be.... Like the memories are justified....

I feel so weighed upon, so crushed, but I know it's not your fault you don't remember. I'm just angry that I can't find the reason you don't remember me...

I feel like...I need to blame myself until I figure out why this is happening...

...why I can't have this....

...

...thank you for letting me hug you...

...

I feel so tired of it all...

..."


End file.
